Love, Beer, and Maple Syrup
by Moonfire Wolfe
Summary: For an invisible Nation, Canada seems to have left quite an impression on Prussia. Between Matt's secrets, the Provinces and Territories, and Gilbert's unavoidable awesomeness, the two begin to grow closer. And there's no end in sight. Crappy summary. Like, whoa, this is cheesy...
1. I See You

For all you good little followers who still believe I'm alive~

Here's some fluffy, sweet PruCan. 'Cause I ship 'em.

Fair warning, this whole fic is sort of drabble-esque, and this chapter and the next will certainly be fixed up at some point. They were just written well before everything else was, and my style shifted again...

Anyways, I don't own Hetalia. If I did, by virtue of the existence of New Prussia, PruCan would be cannon, and the fanservice would NEVER END!

Moony

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Chapter 1- I See You

CLACK!

Canada rolled over in bed, his face twisting into a grimace at the sudden, sharp sound of something solid hitting his window. He burrowed under his pillow, grunting in annoyance.

Clack! CLACK!

"Oh, for Maple's sake..." Canada growled, reaching for his glasses in irritation, nearly knocking them off his nightstand. He managed to snag them, slamming them onto his nose as he rolled into a sitting position, glaring at his alarm clock. It was just after 2.30 AM. Not that he'd been sleeping very well, but he did like to _try_ at night. Whoever was assaulting his house was going to get it right upside the head.

He stumbled to his 'window', aka the full sized glass door to his balcony, and drew back the drapes, unlocking it. He stepped out into the frigid air of an early February night, eyes scanning the ground for the perpetrator.

"Kesesesese~!" The slightly unnerving laugh sounded directly beneath his perch, and he groaned. Good Lord, not tonight. Or this morning, as it stood. He leaned over his balcony, finally catching sight of his 'visitor'. Red eyes glinted up at him from a pale face, framed in silver-white hair. As usual, a small yellow bird was perched on the top of his head.

"Guten morgen, Matt!" He shouted up, his loud and enthusiastic voice doing nothing for Canada's mood.

"Do you know what time it is, Prussia?" He ground out, putting all of his willpower behind maintaining a polite tone of voice. The former kingdom shrugged.

"Well, it's morning, right?" He grinned up at the blonde, who frowned.

"It is, to put it politely, stupid o'clock in the morning. People tend to sleep during this lovely part of the morning, Prussia. Can you imagine what I was trying to do before rocks started pelting my window?" He crossed his arms, trying his best not to glare at the older Nation.

"Oh. I guess that may not have been my awesomest moment." He pushed his hair back, blushing a little. Canada couldn't remember ever hearing Prussia admit to being in the wrong, but it was a very pleasant surprise nonetheless.

"I'm sorry, Mattie. I didn't mean to wake you. I-" The Prussian hugged his arms around himself, and Matthew Williams registered two things at once;

One, the self proclaimed King of Awesome had just apologized to him.

Two, he was standing in knee-deep snow, in a pair of ripped jeans and a thin, torn hoodie.

"I just didn't know where else to go. My kid brother just kicked me out." Prussia said, his voice low. Not angry, Matthew realised, but instead an emotion he was very familiar with.

Loneliness.

He sighed, and decided that the current situation needed fixing. Immediately.

"Go to the front door, Prussia. You'll catch your death out there in those clothes." The Prussian scoffed, grinning.

"I'm too awesome to catch my death! You know that!" He shouted up, as he began trudging through the snow towards the front of the house. Matthew watched him for a few moments, before heading back into his house and closing the door. Kumajirou looked up from his side of the bed, clearly unamused.

"Loud."

"Yes, I know, Kuma." The golden haired Nation rolled his eyes, walking for the bedroom door.

"Hungry."

"Okay. C'mon, I'll make some pancakes." He waited for the bear to trundle to his side, and they headed downstairs together. Matthew ran one hand through his hair, in a failed attempt to straighten it, before opening the front door.

Gilbert Beilschmidt stood on his front porch, smiling as a small cloud of mist left his nose. Other than his clothing and Gilbird, he only had a small, black backpack, slung over one shoulder.

"Come in, Prussia." Matthew mumbled, waving the man inside. The albino smiled a little wider, and stepped into the entry of Canada's home. It was a tasteful house, the walls a conservative off-white, and the floor hardwood. He breathed in the smell of maple that often followed the Canadian to and from meetings, and sighed.

"I'm sorry to barge in on you, Mattie. Like I said, I really don't know where else I could've gone..." The Canadian smiled a little, chuckling.

"I don't mind, Prussia. I'm just not used to having guests arrive before a godly hour. Y'know, like noon."

Prussia blinked. Then burst out laughing.

"Mein Gott, Matt, you have no idea-" He cut himself off with another round of laughter.

"Glad I amuse you." Matthew muttered, rolling his eyes.

"You _do_, though! It's one of the awesome things about you!" He snickered a few more times, then his tone became a little more serious, "And call me Gilbert. Even better, just call me Gil!" He slid out of his snow-logged combat boots, tucking them neatly next to Matthew's army issue winter boots.

Matthew had to hold back a gasp of shock.

Gilbert was _shorter_ than him. By at least an inch.

He'd always thought that the loud, charismatic man was taller. He had always seemed much taller. Maybe it was his enthusiasm.

"You're staring, Birdie." Gilbert observed, smirking a little.

"...Birdie...?" Matthew frowned, then felt something move in his hair. He squeaked, reaching up in shock. A sharp little peck on his fingers greeted him and he pulled back in surprise.

"Gilbird, you behave! We are guests!" Gilbert hissed, and grabbed Matthew's shoulder, "Hold still for a sec, Mattie." He grumbled, and tried to grab the tiny yellow bird from his new perch in the blonde's hair, "Gilbird, aus! Seriously, cut it out!" He snapped at the bird, who was now pecking at his fingers. Gilbird chirped indignantly, trying to hide in Matthew's bangs.

"Oww! Gilbert, let go! That's not your bird!" Matthew squeaked, trying to pull free of the Prussian's hands, which had tangled in his hair in their quest to catch Gilbird, "Ouch, damnit, Gil! Let go of my hair!"

"Okay, okay, calm down!" Gilbert soothed, freeing Matthew's hair from his death grip. The bird continued to chirp incessantly from in the Canadian's hair. "Gilbird, you are an _arschloch_." He growled at the bird.

"No. No swearing at the bird. Not this damn early." Matthew groaned. He rubbed his temples, careful to keep his fingers away from the feathered invader. "I think I'll make pancakes. Yep, I'm making pancakes." He turned for the kitchen, fingers still massaging his temples. Gilbert frowned, and looked at Kuma as Matthew vanished into the kitchen.

"Is he okay?" He asked the bear, who cocked his head to one side.

"Who?"

"So help me, Kuma. Canada. Your owner." He glared at the bear, who blinked.

"Oh. He was crying in his sleep. He woke up very upset." Kumajirou snuffled at the air, smelling the familiar scent of his favourite snack.

"Did he get any sleep?" Gilbert asked, as the bear trundled off to the kitchen.

"Not really. He kept talking in his sleep before he woke up. He fell asleep again before you made noise." Kuma gave him a look. Gilbert, in turn, looked at Canada.

The younger Nation was slumped forward over the stove, his entire person radiating exhaustion. Gilbert could see that his obnoxious little bird had climbed back to the top of Matthew's head, as if to observe the making of the pancakes. The albino frowned. As far as he knew, cooking while in a state of exhaustion was not safe. Not at all.

"Matthew? Are you okay?" He asked, letting his backpack slide off his shoulder and to the floor, "You look a little tired."

"We've been over this, Gil. It's stupid o'clock-" Here he yawned, "In the morning. Just-" Another yawn, "Let it go." He plated the first batch of pancakes, placing half in Kumajirou's bowl, and handing Gilbert the rest. "I'll grab you some syrup-"

"I'll grab it. Birdie, you're dead on your feet." He put the pancakes down on Matthew's kitchen table, and turned for the fridge.

"What's with 'Birdie'...?" Matthew asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, Gilbird likes you. And your hair is the same colour as his feathers. And you act a lot like a bird." He blushed, glad that the Canadian had turned back to the stove.

"...I act like a bird...?" Matthew sounded bemused, "Is that an insult, or a compliment?"

"A compliment! Birds are awesome!" Prussia confirmed hurriedly, coaxing a laugh out of the younger Nation.

"Good. I'm not sure I wouldn't beat you to death with a hockey stick, if you'd been trying to insult me." The Canadian flashed him an innocent smile, before plating his own food and sitting across the table from Gil's plate, "...I said 'if', Gilbert." He smirked.

"I know that!" Gilbert laughed, returning to the table with his syrup. He blinked. "How do you cook these things so fast?" Canada chuckled, grabbing the syrup and dousing his pancakes, before scooping up a forkful.

"The magic of Maple." Canada mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes, completely serious. Gilbert nodded, knowing better than to argue. They both looked to the table, as Gilbird finally left Matthew's hair, in favour of the pancakes on his plate.

"Gilbird. You are an _ass_." Gilbert sighed, picking up the tiny bird. He pecked his master's finger again, but lighter, and more affectionately. Matthew laughed softly, reaching out and stroking the little bird's feathers. Gilbert watched in surprise as the bird hopped onto his friend's finger, and chirped, cocking his head to one side. Matthew mirrored the expression with a tired smile.

"For the record, Gilbird? I agree with your human." He chuckled, as the bird twittered, fluttering back to the table. Matthew ate another mouthful of pancake, as Gilbert proceeded to stuff himself. "Gil?"

"Mmmm?"

"Look, I don't mean to pry, but why did Germany kick you out?"

"Well, I kind of managed to cover every surface of the kitchen in maple syrup. And both he and Feli were in there at the time." He chuckled, "Damn, I've known Luddy since forever, and I've never seen him that _pissed_." He ate more of his pancakes, and sighed, "He'll let me come home when he cools down. I hope."

"He will. He's-" He yawned again, rubbing at his eyes, "Your brother. He loves you." He set his chin on the table, sighing, "Sometimes, I wonder about my brother. He's usually ignoring me, if he's not making jokes about me."

Gilbert blinked. Matthew had never said anything about himself, not any of the times that Gilbert had come to mooch company and food off the young Canadian. He figured exhaustion may be loosening his younger friend's tongue.

"Oh, come on, Birdie. Alfred loves you, you know that."

"Well, he could stand to s-show it once and a while..." Matthew dropped his voice to a pitiful whisper, and Gilbert was shocked to see moisture in the Nation's eyes.

"Birdie..." He whispered, as the young man's hands clenched into fists.

"I get these n-nightmares, y'know? Where no one can hear me, and they're all convinced that I don't exist. That America is the only one out of the two of us who ever existed. I scream, and scream, and no one hears me." He wiped a hand across his face, sniffling a little, "But that's my life, Gilbert. I'm just America's invisible brother. I'm invisible at meetings, no one hears me. I might as well not exist-" Gil cut him off with a gentle hand against his cheek, leaning across the table to reach him.

"I see you, Matt. I hear you, and you are AWESOME. Not quite as awesome as me, but no one can be _that_ awesome. Too damn awesome for everyone else, if they can't see you."

"Gil-" Matthew sniffled, leaning into his hand. Gilbert wasn't expecting that. The sweet little Canadian raised his violet eyes to meet Gilbert's own brilliant red. Gilbert had never really looked closely at his friend's eyes, and he could not believe the stunning beauty in front of him. While his own eyes had been described as looking like rubies, Matthew's looked like a pair of perfectly matched amethyst stones, deep and filled with a world of emotions.

"I don't care what they say. You're amazing, Birdie. And if they don't see that, it's their own loss."

"But I want them to." Matthew whimpered softly, "I-I'm _lonely_, Gil. I'm so tired of being alone. If no one recognizes me, how can I even exist?"

"Birdie-"

"My own family _forgets me_, Gilbert. My brother, my father, my Papa. They hardly ever remember me. At least your brother remembers you enough to get mad at you. It scares me, Gil. I-I don't want to disappear..." He trailed off, as Gilbert stood, and skirted the table, pulled him to his feet, and hugged him. He breathed in Gilbert's scent, of old paper, beer, and a spicy smell he had no name for. "I-I'm sorry. You have your own problems, Gil. I shouldn't be throwing mine at you, too-"

"Who else stops to listen? Besides, I went and woke you up at stupid o'clock in the morning." He smirked, patting Matthew's shoulder, "I think it's the least I could do. Now, go to bed before you fall over, vogelchen." He steered the Canadian towards the stairs, and guided him up and to his bedroom. Matthew was asleep the moment he hit the pillow, a soft smile on his face. Gil smiled in return, and slipped back down the stairs, to crash on the couch (which he was seriously considering naming New Prussia). He saw Kuma, just leaving the kitchen. The bear waddled over, and looked up at him.

"You made him smile. Thank you."

Then, the bear was headed upstairs, to watch over his human, as Matthew might put it.

Gil just chuckled, and curled up to sleep.

A shrill scream woke him several hours later. His body working faster than his mind, he was up the stairs, and in Matthew's room, before his brain registered that he had moved. He saw Matthew sitting up, gasping desperately between the fractured sobs that left him.

"Matt?" He scrambled to sit next to the panicking man, pulling him close. It took him a moment to realise that Matthew wasn't just frightened by whatever dream had plagued his sleep. He was in a full out panic attack.

Gilbert had dealt with Ludwig's night terrors after the Wars. He had struggled through his own PTSD, after the Cold War. But he had never seen someone with such raw terror in his eyes, as his violet-eyed Canadian friend.

"Breathe, Mattie. You need to breathe." He gently coached, rubbing the blonde's back. He continued to do so, for the minutes it took for Matthew to reach a point where he could talk.

"In-inhaler. Top d-drawer." He gasped, trying to even out his breathing. Gilbert nodded, standing to open the drawer. The inhaler was wedged between a copy of Hamlet, and another bottle of pure maple syrup. He had to chuckle at that.

"Where don't you hide maple syrup, Matt?" He murmured, handing the inhaler to his friend. Matthew depressed the button, breathing in as deeply as he could. It took another minute before he could talk again.

"T-thank you, Gil." He rasped, leaning against his headboard.

"No problem." He sat down beside him, "Y'know, you never mentioned you have asthma."

"I don't. It's actually damage from gas attacks. During the Wars." He shrugged, "It's not a problem, when I don't get a panic attack at the same time." He looked at his feet, "I'm just a bundle of problems, I am." He managed a weak laugh.

"I still wish you would tell me these things, Birdie. I'm here to listen." He patted the Canadian's shoulder, and gained a smile. Just then, Gilbird flew into the room, chirping loudly.

"Was?" Gilbert asked the bird, who continued to chirp loudly.

"You understand him?" Canada asked, watching in interest.

"Ja, sometimes. He says my phone's going off, with Ludwig's ringtone." He relaxed next to Matthew, who looked at him in confusion. Gilbert smirked. "Herr stick-up-his-ass can wait. I'm staying with you for a while. He kicked me out, so he'll have to live without my awesome presence. You, meanwhile, will be graced with it." He poked Matthew's cheek, grinning at the way the younger man blushed, giggling just a little.

"I'm looking forward to it, Gil." He whispered, leaning against the albino, who grinned.

"Kesesesese. Me too, Birdie."He smirked, then a thought came to him, "You do have beer, right?"

"Ever had Canadian beer before?" He smiled at the slight shake of the head Gilbert gave him in response, "Well, then, we'll have plenty of beer."

"Ver Gut, Birdie."


	2. The Good Old Hockey Game

Eyup! Lookie, two chapters in two days! Aren't you all lucky! Thank you for the lovely reviews, and let the story continue!

Disclaimer: If I owned it, would this be Fanfiction? I didn't think so.

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Chapter 2- The Good Old Hockey Game

"Oh, COME ON, Ref! Tabernac! That was in, you bastard!" Gilbert could hear Matthew shouting at the TV. Actually shouting, at a normal, loud volume. He walked into the den, leaving the safety of Yukon's bedroom. Matthew had called his daughter, Naska, to make sure that Gilbert wouldn't end up on the receiving end of an ice pick for borrowing the room, almost a week ago. Naska really didn't care. And so Gilbert had moved in.

Temporarily, of course.

Ludwig hadn't exactly been happy about it, but then, West needed to learn to live with his mistakes. And he had Feliciano, anyway. Gilbert was, admittedly, a little jealous of them. He had never really been in a relationship. Sure, there were the occasional one-night stands with pretty human women. And, he was willing to admit, one or two pretty men. And there was the whole, utterly confusing and depressing thing with Hungary and Austria. But, aside from his brother, there were very few people who could even stand his presence.

The thin blonde currently cussing out the referee on television was one of them.

"Who's winning?" Gilbert asked brightly, flopping onto the couch beside the fuming man.

"The damn Flames. Tabernac. The ref is NOT being fair." He grumbled, "If I was there-"The blonde let that hang in the air, shaking one fist as he glared at the man in question. Gilbert knew better than to point out that the call had been legitimate.

"So, the Oilers are still the underdogs?" He raised an eyebrow, snatching a beer off the table. Matthew nodded, copying his movements.

"Yep. Albert is going to be upset." He took a drink of his beer, "He and Brittany had a bet on today's game. If I recall correctly," He grinned, "Albert will now likely be her slave by the end of the day."

"Wasn't slavery abolished?" Prussia asked with mock horror. Matthew laughed.

"Yeah, but you try telling_ that_ to Hick One and the Delinquent."

Suddenly, the crowd on the TV erupted into a new roar of excitement, drawing their attention. Matthew leaned towards the screen, shouting right along with them.

"Come on, COME ON! Yes, YES, YES!" He mimed a slap shot, as Gilbert leaned slightly out of his way, "SHOOT THE DAMN PUCK, TABERNAC!" He screamed, and leapt from his seat as the puck shot into the net, "YES! SCORE!" He continued to bounce up and down, sending the bag of microwave popcorn, previously safe on his lap, flying over the floor of his den. "Tie game! Effing RIGHT!" He did a victory dance, still sending airborne popcorn in all directions. Gilbert could not help but laugh at the expression on Matthew's face; the wide, almost manic grin of joy was so different from the blonde's usual, shy smile. He couldn't help but wonder how many people had seen this louder, more vibrant side of Matthew before. Maybe America and France. _Maybe _England. He noticed that the TV had gone to commercial.

"I can't believe they pulled that off! Only a few minutes 'till the end of regulation, too." Matthew laughed softly, and looked at Gilbert, "Sorry if I startled you, eh. I tend to get a little, well, _excited_, when I watch hockey. Alfred says I'm crazy, but then, he's much worse at baseball games." Gilbert chuckled.

"I think it's pretty awesome that you can be so loud, Birdie. Why don't you speak up like that at meetings?" He raised an eyebrow, and the blonde sighed.

"I've tried, Gil. I just... can't..." He shrugged, smiling a little, "I don't get it, either, if that helps." Gilbert noticed that he was rubbing at his wrists, as if they were itchy or sore. The TV again interrupted any conversation that might have come from it, as the final minutes of the game flew by.

"Looks like it's going to sudden death, eh?" Matthew grinned at his houseguest, who grinned back. Matthew was silently grateful that Gilbert didn't have a problem with his obsession with hockey, a fault shared by both Kumajirou and Cuba. Since his friend had 'moved in', over a week ago, he had begun to feel much happier. To have a companion who not only saw him all the time, but cared about him enough to sit with him during one of his anxiety attacks, was a pleasant change.

"Ja. Looks that way, Birdie." Gilbert affectionately poked Matthew in the side, eliciting a soft giggle from the blonde. But then, the crowd was screaming again, and they both watched in amazement as the Oilers stole the puck, skating it down towards the Flames' net.

"YES!" Matthew screamed as the puck slid past the goalie's guard. Gilbert himself was shouting with excitement, hurriedly putting down his beer as he caught Matthew in a fierce hug. The Canadian returned it, caught in the moment of joy at the team's victory, "They did it! They DID IT!" Matthew let out a giddy laugh, clinging to Gilbert.

"Determined little bastards, your Oilers!" Gilbert laughed, ruffling Matthew's hair. They pulled apart, settling back onto the couch. After a few moments, Matthew leaned on Gilbert's shoulder, and whispered,

"Thank you, Gil." The albino raised an eyebrow.

"What for, Vogelchen?"

"Watching with me. No one else does." He chuckled, shrugging, "Alfred's too scared I'll beat him to death with a hockey stick if an American team wins." Gilbert wrapped an arm around the smaller man's shoulders. He couldn't even fathom why anyone would forget the gentle, beautiful Canadian, whose head was resting against the crook of his neck. His heart skipped a beat as he realised what he'd just thought.

'I just thought that Mattie's beautiful. Where the hell did _that_ come from? Not that he _isn't_ beautiful, but-' He blinked, willing his brain to shut off for a few seconds so that he could talk to the blonde.

"He _should_ be scared. Stupid America, thinking he could beat _you_ at hockey and get away with it, Birdie." He snickered at the thought; America running away screaming, from a hockey stick wielding Matthew, "Besides, it really is a fun sport to watch. I'd love to try playing it sometime, Mattie."

Matthew looked at Gilbert with wide, excited eyes.

"R-really? Well, there's an ice rink not far from the conference center where I'm hosting the next World Conference. I'd be honored to teach you how to play, Gil."

Gilbert couldn't get over the fact that Matthew, with a full, brilliant red blush spreading across his cheeks, was likely the cutest thing he had _ever_ seen.

"It's a date, then!" Gilbert declared, giving Matthew a hundred-watt smile.

"A-a _date_?" Matthew mumbled, as if shocked by the idea. Gilbert instantly felt regret, and fear that he'd gone too far with his choice of words.

"As friends, of course! As the most awesome people in existence, we need to engage in awesome activities with each other!" He hurriedly fumbled for words, only stopping when Matthew gently nudged him.

"You don't need to _explain_, Gil. I'm okay with it. I just-" He chuckled, blushing even brighter, "I've never been on a date. Not even a 'friends' date. No one's ever remembered me long enough to bother." Gilbert scoffed.

"Bah, none of them are awesome enough for you, Birdie. Their loss. We're going to have the most awesome time EVER!" He fist pumped, then frowned, "Although, there might be one small problem..." At Matthew's frown, he chuckled nervously, "I haven't really skated for a long time, Birdie..."

"It'll come back to you. Don't worry; you'll do just fine, Gil." Matthew gave him a reassuring smile, just as his cell phone began to chime out the tune of 'A Bag of Weed' from Family Guy. Matthew paled a little, "Oh. That'll be Brittany. Crap. She probably wants to hide from Albert in my maple bunker."

Gilbert blinked.

"...Maple bunker...?"

Matthew rolled his eyes.

"Who was stuck between Alfred and Ivan when they played with big, unstable guns for decades? I thought it sounded nicer than 'nuclear bomb shelter'. Besides, I hide my extra maple syrup out there now." He looked at Gilbert, taking in his bemused expression, "What?"

"You never cease to amaze me, Birdie." Gilbert chuckled, pulling the Canadian closer. Matthew didn't object, enjoying the excuse for ignoring the phone.


End file.
